By the time the judgment ended, Sarisa felt hollowed out.
The court had emptied in layers, like a wound closing over poison. Nobles first, whispering into jeweled sleeves. Then ministers, then servants clearing away the ceremonial clutter of justice as if they were tidying after dinner.
Vaelen had been ushered out under careful hands and sympathetic looks. Selene had vanished with the little boy and three grim-faced attendants before Sarisa could decide whether she wanted to scream at her or demand answers.
Her mother had remained for only a moment longer, long enough to issue calm orders no one dared question.
And then, finally, after enough pleading from Elysia, enough cold silence from Veylira, enough quiet menace from Malvoria and Raveth to make even the judges nervous, Sarisa had been granted a few private minutes with Lara.
Private.
As if privacy could still exist after what had just happened.
The room they gave them was small and formal, one of the side chambers used for witness consultations.
Sarisa heard them close it behind her with the deliberate finality of men who did not trust what might happen if she had too much time.
Lara was already inside.
She stood by the window, hands braced on the sill, shoulders rigid beneath plain dark clothes. They had not put the chains back on her, which somehow felt crueller.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Sarisa had imagined this differently on the walk down the corridor. She had imagined throwing herself into Lara's arms.
Or perhaps demanding explanations. Or asking if she was hurt. Or simply standing there and staring until the world made sense again.
Instead, all she felt was the weight of a hundred things at once. Relief that Lara was standing. Horror at the sentence. Rage at her mother. And somewhere underneath all of it, sharp and ugly and shaming, doubt.
Lara turned first.
Her face was bruised, tired, too still. But her eyes were alive in that fierce way that always made Sarisa think of fire trapped inside glass.
"Well," Lara said, voice rough. "This is nice. Very romantic. I've always wanted to be exiled before supper."
Sarisa stared at her.
Lara's mouth flattened. "Right. Not joking time."
"No," Sarisa said. "Not joking time."
The silence shifted. Hardened.
Lara looked at her for one terrible second and then away, like she had already seen the question in Sarisa's face and hated it.
Sarisa hated herself for not being able to stop it from existing.
"That child," she said.
Lara let out a breath through her nose.
"That child," Sarisa repeated, because the words felt unreal and saying them twice might force them into shape, "has your blood. Your fire. The test—"
"I know what the fucking test showed."
Sarisa flinched, not from fear but from the rawness of it. "Then tell me what I'm supposed to think."
Lara spun away from the window so fast it made the room feel smaller. "Maybe think this is a trap. Maybe think your mother has been trying to get rid of me for years and finally found something filthy enough to use. Maybe start there."
"I am trying," Sarisa snapped. "But I watched a Celestian paternity test connect you to a three-year-old boy who looks enough like you for the whole court to choke on it."
"And you think I don't know how bad that looks?"
Sarisa threw up a hand, frustration breaking through. "Then help me, Lara! Give me something I can hold onto besides you glaring at everyone and punching holes through princes."
That hit.
Lara's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in her cheek. "I told you. I don't know that woman."
Sarisa laughed once, brittle and exhausted. "Do you understand how insane that sounds now?"
Lara stepped closer. "It sounds insane to me too."
"Then how?"
"I don't know!"
The shout cracked through the small chamber and left both of them breathing too fast.
Sarisa looked away first, pressing her hand against her mouth. She had not meant to cry. She had sworn to herself she would not cry.
But the whole week had been one humiliation after another, and now this, and now Lara looking at her like she expected faith when the whole damned court had just watched magic prove the impossible.
Quietly, without meaning to, Sarisa said, "Maybe old Lara could have."
The words landed like a slap.
Lara went absolutely still.
Sarisa wished them back at once, but it was too late. They were out. Real. Poisonous.
"Old Lara," Lara repeated.
Sarisa dragged in a shaking breath. "You were different back then. You drank too much. You slept with whoever you wanted. You didn't always remember names, and you—"
"And you think I would forget a child?" Lara's voice dropped low, dangerous, far more frightening than if she had shouted. "You think I'm that kind of bastard?"
"I don't know what to think!" Sarisa burst out. "That is the problem. I don't know what is true anymore."
Lara laughed then, but there was nothing kind in it. "Well, that's fucking convenient, isn't it?"
Sarisa's head jerked up. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means the first time the room turns against me, you start looking at me like maybe they've got a point."
"That is not fair."
"No?" Lara took another step closer, anger burning through the cracks of her control. "You stood there and watched them hang a child around my neck and your face said the same thing as everyone else. Maybe old Lara could have."
Sarisa's eyes stung. "You think this is easy for me?"
"I think," Lara said, "that if our positions were reversed, I would have torn the room apart before I let anyone put that look in your eyes."
That shut Sarisa up.
Because it was true.
And because it hurt.
She swallowed hard. "You also would have punched Vaelen through a wall."
"He deserved worse."
"That is not helping."
"I'm not trying to help, Sarisa. I'm trying not to lose my fucking mind."
They stood there, both breathing hard, both too close to stop now.
Sarisa hated this. Hated him. Hated herself more for still wanting to cross the space between them and put her hands on Lara's face and believe. Hated that the idea of exile hurt less than the idea that Lara might have lied to her without even knowing it.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, quieter now. "Tell me. My mother wants you gone. The court thinks you're a violent demon with hidden children. I watched the judges sentence you like you were filth under their shoes. And now I'm supposed to walk away from that and just… trust?"
Lara looked at her for a long, unbearable moment.
Then something in her face broke open.
Not weakness. Not surrender.
Truth.
"Fucking calm down and listen to me," Lara said, voice shaking now not with rage but with something far more dangerous.
"So you don't believe me? Fine. I'll say it plain. I don't know that woman, Sarisa. I never touched another woman after Aliyah was born. The only one I wanted after it was you, Sarisa."
Sarisa stopped breathing.
Lara kept going, as if once the words started she could not stop them, as if five years of restraint had finally found a crack and were pouring through all at once.
"I wanted you when you were half asleep with Aliyah drooling on your shoulder and you looked like hell and still somehow more beautiful than anyone had a right to be. I wanted you when you were yelling at me for teaching our daughter how to climb bookshelves. I wanted you when you were exhausted and mean and covered in ink. I wanted you when you were wearing ridiculous formal gowns and pretending you didn't care if I looked. I wanted you every fucking day I was away from you and every worse fucking day I was near you and had to pretend I didn't."
Sarisa's hands trembled at her sides.
Lara laughed once, harsh and self-mocking. "You think this is about sex? About me needing someone warm in my bed? Gods, Sarisa, if that were true I'd have solved this years ago. I didn't touch anyone because no one else was you. That's the pathetic truth of it. Every time I tried to imagine moving on, all I could think about was your mouth, your laugh, your stupid little annoyed face when I tease you, the way you look at Aliyah like she hung the moon."
Sarisa's vision blurred.
"I fell for you," Lara said, and now there was no anger left, only a raw kind of honesty that made the room feel too small to contain it. "Not all at once, not in some pretty dramatic moment. It was bit by bit. Over five fucked-up years. Watching you survive. Watching you mother our daughter. Watching you carry everything and still make room for me when I did not deserve it. I fell for you when we were tired and fighting and co-parenting and trying not to ruin each other. And I kept falling, you stubborn, beautiful menace, until there was nothing left in me that wasn't yours."
Sarisa had started crying somewhere in the middle of that and hadn't even noticed.
Lara saw it and looked wrecked by it.
"I don't know where that boy came from," she said, softer now. "I don't know what they did, or what I forgot, or what truth is hiding in this mess. But I know this. I know you. I know what I feel when I look at you. I know that if they drag me out of this realm tomorrow, the only thing I'll be thinking about is whether you ate, whether Aliyah misses me, whether you're standing in some stupid formal room letting people decide your life while I'm not there to make it harder for them."
Sarisa covered her mouth with one hand, because her whole body had become one shaking, aching thing.
Lara took one last step forward.
When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. Stripped bare. No performance left in it at all.
"I fucking love you."